It’s hot outside, so we decided to plant the flowers that we bought last weekend. This is quite a workout for both of us. I lift Becky in and out of her wheelchair, and she has to manoeuver herself and maintain balance.
I think there were nine plants in total. Enough to get Becky covered in dirt, anyway. She said to me, “I love this garden”. I said, “I do too”. When we moved here seven years ago, there were two huge trees, a rickety tree house, and lawn. We have planted everything that’s here, pruned the hedges, and put siding on the ugly shed. It’s ours. It is here because of us.
My mom taught me about gardening. It was one of her loves. We grew daffodils in all sorts of containers, but my favourite was a blue and white windmill. We picked apples from the tree and made pies with my Nan. Mom showed me how to prune roses, as we had a rose garden in the front. Her enjoyment was passed on to me, and now, it seems, I have passed it in to Becky.
Gardening, and gardens are such a joy, especially on a day as beautiful as today.